


Method

by WyrmLivvy



Series: Michael Rosenbaum Mentors Tom Welling Fics [1]
Category: CW Network RPF, Smallville, Smallville RPF
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6166192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyrmLivvy/pseuds/WyrmLivvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Rosenbaum falls ill. Tom Welling gets an ankle injury. They role play as Lex and Clark. In that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The events in this fic are drawn from a manga called Skip Beat (which I've drawn from before), mixed and remixed with RPF (Real Person Fic). 
> 
> RPF is not to everyone's taste and in fact I avoid RPF. I thought I would never write it but then this happened (Baby's First RPF). If you don't like RPF turn back now if the summary didn't already warn you. 
> 
> Note that I am depicting slash between fictional constructs of MR and TW. This story is not real and I do not know what they are like in rl.

Tom looked in Michael’s direction, frowning because once again his co-worker had coughed into his sleeve. 

Yesterday, Michael had admitted to a rough feeling at his throat, and occasionally sneezed. It was likely he was coming down with something but instead of resting, he was currently pushing through their grueling work day. 

They were filming for the sixth episode, “Hourglass”, and Tom had already completed a scene that was one of the seer Cassandra’s future visions. He merely had to scream “No!” in the artificial rain. He had done his part and the work would be complete once the computer generated images of gravestones were inserted. 

During his break Tom had stopped to watch Michael’s future vision scene being filmed and like Tom’s had been, it was a one man scene. 

But while Tom had the one line in his scene, Michael had none at all. Tom had rain and did not envy Michael getting drenched in blood. He had watched as Michael gave a rather calm yet sinister expression and smelled an invisible flower Tom knew would appear as a CGI in the end product. Michael didn’t say anything but he had conveyed much and Tom had been chilled by how pleased Michael had looked acting as Lex while blood fell on him. 

“Nice acting with your face.” Tom had said. “It was terrifying. No wonder you murdered that old lady.”

“ _Excusez-moi_.” Michael had said with an exaggerated accent. “She died of fright and it was an accident. But thanks. You did well too - nice screaming.” 

Tom had smiled and enjoyed the praise but soon he would feel it undeserved. 

Right now, they were about to film a scene involving Clark and Lex, another one of Cassandra’s future visions. Tom had done his work and memorized his lines but when the rain machines started up he felt his memory of the lines slip away like the water sloshing down on him.The oppressive weight of the water here startled him in a way it hadn’t when he had had gone through his earlier rain scene. 

And now he had much more lines and someone else that was in the scene and depending on him to deliver the lines in tandem. Tom looked miserably over at Michael. At least that was the one thing he was getting right - Clark was suppose to be miserable in this scene. Tom had already done this before, acting his lines in scenes with other people Of course that’s what he had to do all the time as the show’s lead. It was already episode six for God’s sake, but Tom hadn’t experienced having to deliver extensive lines in the rain until now. He was relatively new to acting still. 

Michael’s eyes are cruel. He spoke of destiny and fate. The water leeched away the heat from Tom’s body and Tom tripped over his counter arguments of choice and morality - again. The director called for another take, and then another. The rain machines continued to run. Tom felt terrible and he couldn’t imagine how Michael was feeling. Michael was delivering his lines well while Tom was continuing to fuck up. Michael was already likely sick and having to shoot this scene repeatedly did not help his condition. 

It’s a relief when the director finally called for an end, announcing that the shot he had was satisfactory. While those were his words, his tone suggested otherwise. 

Michael usually smiled freely and easily but he wasn’t smiling now, his usually energetic self looked weary. 

Tom doesn’t get a chance to talk to Michael, to apologize. They were already moving onto another scene and he still had much more scenes to be filmed in where Lex was not present. Tom only gets a chance once it’s the end of work and he was free to go to Michael’s trailer.

The entrance was ajar and Tom doesn’t enter immediately because the words that he was hearing startled him. 

First of all, Michael was speaking to himself and second of all, he was mocking Tom. 

"What is the difference between Tom Welling and a pussy? Only one of them works while wet."

Tom could feel his face heat. Should he really step inside and confront Michael about those words or wait and pretend he didn't hear? 

_The difference is you only see one and not the other._ Tom mentally retorted. And Michael should have thought up a better metaphor because did he even consider that while Tom hadn't, he had worked well when wet? What did that make Michael? Acting without a hitch while Tom had struggled and repeatedly ruined their scene. Michael, good when wet - got fucked over by Tom. Tom shook his head. It had been a long work day. That was the explanation Tom had for why his thoughts had turned to fucking and Michael.

“…messing up such easy lines that many times.” Michael said. “It isn’t that hard.”

Tom almost stepped in dramatically to protest but before he did, he stopped as he heard Michael say the lines he had trouble with. They were delivered perfectly. The pace and tone sounded right and strong with genuine and sheer conviction despite the hoarseness Tom also heard in Michael’s voice. Tom was sure that Lex Luthor would be convinced of the truth of those words if Michael had delivered them. But then Tom remembered that his role was Clark Kent and he was suppose to have delivered those lines. 

“I’m really sorry for messing up my lines earlier.” Tom said, barging in. 

He startled Michael, who had nearly finished a bottle of cold medicine. 

Michael put down the bottle. He shrugged and the blanket wrapped around him nearly slipped off but he caught it. “What’s done is done.” He said. “Just try not to have that happen again. It isn’t very professional for the lead to not memorize his lines.”

There’s enough of a bite to the words that Tom felt his hackles rise. Tom wanted to protest. He had memorized his lines; but not in the environment of artificial rain. 

But before Tom could get a word in, Michael had stood up from his seat, stumbling as he did so. 

Tom stepped in front of him, stopping Michael’s body with his own before the man could really fall. 

“You were coughing a bit yesterday. I saw you using a few tissues.” Tom said. “And I think right now you have a full blown cold and maybe even a fever.” He could tell now because of the nearness of Michael's body. No doubt Michael’s current worsened condition had to do with him having to stand under simulated rain for over an hour because of Tom’s fumbling his lines. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” Michael mumbled. 

“Why didn’t you ask for a break?” 

“It was a little sniffle. I thought I had it under control.” Michael said. “And I had to consider professionalism. I don’t want to waste the time of everyone else working on this project, the director’s, the camera people, other actors…” 

Tom winced. Those words were an obvious burn directed at him. 

“I’m sorry again, for what happened earlier. I did memorize my lines but I didn’t do it in the rain so when it actually came time to do it I couldn’t.” Tom said.

“You don’t have to worry about getting it right anymore. They decided Cassandra’s two visions are enough and they’re cutting the scene with both of us in one vision out.” Michael said, moving away from Tom.

Tom frowned. Shit. That meant Michael had suffered for nothing and because of that scene his cold had worsened. “You’re not well so can you let me try to make it up to you by driving you home?” Tom asked. It was the least he could do. 

He expected a possible rejection but instead Michael nodded. 

—

“This is not my apartment.” Michael said because Tom had stopped the car. 

“It isn’t. But I’m stopping to pick up a few things.” Tom said.

“For?”

“For you. Stuff to help with a cold and fever. It’s all on me.” Tom said. He exited the car, leaving the keys behind. 

“Alrighty.” Michael said, reclining on the passenger seat. He looked at his phone and idly checked his messages but his thoughts drifted. Maybe he had been too harsh on Tom? But he couldn’t deny he had been grown agitated during the filming of Cassandra’s vision involving both Clark and Lex. Having had blood spilled on him wasn’t so bad though the smell had agitated his sinuses, but acting under machine generated rain for far longer than he had expected he would because his co-worker, the lead, couldn’t get his lines out right? That had bothered him and so had the flimsy excuse. He got that Tom was younger and relatively new to acting but the lack of professionalism irked Michael because not only did it waste his work but that of the crew. 

At least Tom was remorseful, or pretending to be, by offering to drive Michael home, and even buy him remedies. Michael had a headache so it was a good thing Tom drove, but Michael wanted to be at his apartment already and in bed. He wondered if he should accept Tom’s help good-naturedly, or be hard to please. Michael decided that would depend on how fast Tom would take with the purchases - and his patience was slipping away. 

Tom returned after twenty minutes. That wasn’t bad but it had felt like an eternity and Michael had used quite an amount of tissues, stuffing them in a plastic bag and then putting that bag in the glove compartment. He told Tom about the tissues. 

“Oh, okay.” Tom said, putting down his bags in the back, below the seats.

“What did you buy?” Michael asked, curious. 

“Oranges, for the vitamin C.”

Michael nodded. That made sense. 

“Some soup ingredients, but I can’t remember and list them all right now.”

“You need to work on your memory.” Michael said playfully. He grinned.

“God, get off my back. I’m genuinely sorry.” Tom said, voice flushed with embarrassment. 

“Wait, you’re making me soup?” Michael said, just recognizing the significance of what Tom had said. 

“Yeah. I got some chicken, carrots and stuff. Ginger tea…”

Among the bags, Michael could see a familiar beverage with a long neck. “And the beer?” He asked. 

“Boiled beer is a cold remedy.” Tom said. 

“Oh really?”

“To Germans it is.” Tom said, vaguely gesturing at himself. He strapped in his seatbeat. 

“Hmm.” Michael filled away that information about Tom’s heritage and readjusted his own seat beat. If Tom was going to help his cold by treating him to beer then he could see himself quickly forgiving Tom for screwing up his lines during their rain scene.


	2. Chapter 2

One sip was already enough for Michael to figure out that warm beer tasted nasty and that he was going to get Welling for punking him. 

However, it was hard to be angry when Tom was placing a bowl of soup before him expectantly. 

Warm beer not withstanding Michael actually felt quite relaxed because he had just finished a full steam bath with bubbles, and was dressed in fresh clothes. 

While he had been bathing, Tom had made the soup and he was still in an apron. 

Michael giggled as he was about to sip a spoonful of soup. The apron was red, a coincidence but thinking about Tom’s role it was like he was wearing a cape backwards. 

“What’s so funny? The soup doesn’t smell weird or bad, does it?” Tom asked. 

Michael explained the reason for he amusement. “It suits you. And the soup smells rather good.” Michael said. He sipped it. "It tastes good too." 

Flavorful, hearty, well-seasoned. Lots of tasty vegetables in it too, though more than he would like. The vegetables ratio in the soup was higher than the meat content. 

Tom smiled. “Glad you like it.”

“It’s better than the beer. That’s for sure.” 

“If you don’t like that, I made some ginger tea too.” Tom said, putting a cup before Michael. 

Michael nodded and continued to enjoy the soup while occasionally sipping the tea. 

Tom was seated across from him, his arms crossed. 

The feeling of being watched unnerved Michael even though he knew exactly who was watching and presumably why. Wait, why? 

Michael experimentally held out a spoonful and put it before Tom’s plush lips.

“Do you want to have some?” Michael asked. 

Tom looked dumbfounded. 

_Oh, wait._ Michael thought. _I have a cold and used the spoon. I've licked it and it’s touched my tongue. I better not let Tom drink from it too. It would be bad if the lead got sick too._

Michael suddenly pulled back the spoon. “Psych!”

Just as he had pulled it back, Tom had decided on taking the offered soup but since Michael had retreated as he was going forward his lips met with nothing but air. 

Michael could read the feelings on Tom’s expression plainly. 

Surprise and betrayal. He was upset.

“It wasn’t a good idea to almost feed you like that.” Michael said. “Using the same spoon I’m using, because what if you got sick like me?” He explained. 

“Oh.” Tom said. He relaxed. 

“That’s good though. What you looked like just now.” 

“Huh?”

“Like I betrayed you. Remember those emotions because you’ll have something to draw on when I inevitably betray your Clark as Lex, okay?”

“You mean when I find out about the secret experiment I should be thinking about how you were going to let me have soup but then pulled back just as I was about to accept?” 

“If it’ll help, yes. The audience won’t know. All they’ll see is the resultant performance.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the protip.” He said, not wholly sarcastic. 

“You’re welcome.” Michael said, continuing to eat the delicious soup. Because of his sickness he had trouble with his appetite all day but now this soup was going down easily. 

He was still being watched. 

“Dude, is there something you want?” Michael asked. “Waiting for something - ?”

Tom set down unopened medicine. “Eat this after you finish the soup.” He said. 

“I don’t remember hiring a nurse.” Michael said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry.” Tom said. 

Michael sighed. “For not memorizing your lines, I know you’re sorry. Saying it again just makes you sound like a broken record.”

“I did memorize my lines.” Tom corrected.

“Right. And that’s why you couldn’t say them.” 

“I really did.” Tom insisted. “It’s just when it came time to actually say them and the rain machines started - I don’t know. It was really distracting and I wasn’t used to it.” 

“Hmm, so you weren’t used to it, huh?” Michael said thoughtfully. He stood up, surprising Tom. “I don’t think you’ve eaten anything since we left the set so I’m going to order take out for the both of us and pay for it. After we eat I think I can help you with your saying-lines-under-the-rain troubles.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

—

While they were waiting for the food to arrive Tom had cleaned up the kitchen and even other parts of Michael’s apartment. Michael had mocked him for having house-wife tendencies and Tom had lightly smacked his back. 

Once the take out had arrived, between them they had finished the egg rolls, orange chicken, Mongolian beef and the pineapple fried rice that went with it. 

Michael had also taken his medicine. 

He was standing with Tom in front of the bathroom.

Michael walked inside. 

“I thought you were going to help me. Or are you going to brush your teeth and turn in for the night?” Tom asked. 

“Get in the shower.” Michael said. 

Tom looked confused, crossing his arms over his chest, “Hey - ”

“With your clothes on.” Michael added. 

Tom reluctantly listened to the instructions. 

Michael flipped the shower on, but stayed outside while Tom stood in the bathtub. 

“All of the roads have only ever lead to here.” Michael said. He slipped into character even as his dulled headache protested. 

Tom’s eyes widened, getting the cue. As the water from the shower head hit him, Tom went into character and began to act. 

Internally, Michael grinned since externally he couldn’t. In this scene he was suppose to be serious and cold. He knew he already used up the hot water so what was left, the water falling on Tom, was lukewarm or cold. He was helping Tom get practice with delivering lines as water fell on him. This wasn’t for revenge or anything. Haha, of course not. 

Michael was somewhat surprised. Tom did know his lines and he was doing better than he had when they were filming this scene at work. Michael would be more impressed if Tom had pulled off this performance earlier. 

They try the scene once, twice and on the third it was a better take than even the one the director had accepted. The point was moot because the scene wasn’t even going to be in the episode anyway. 

“And cut.” Michael said. “That’s enough. It would be bad if I really caused you to get a cold and fuck up the shooting schedule.”

Tom nodded, stepping out of the bathtub. 

Michael observed a soaked Tom. Clothing clung to his body in interesting ways. 

“Thank you. I think I have a better handle on it now.” Tom said. 

“That’s good.” Michael said, handing Tom a towel.

"I'm not so useless when wet anymore, am I?" Tom asked.

It took a moment for Michael to understand. He flushed. "Crap - you heard what I had said?" 

Tom nodded, wiping off his arms.

"I'm sorry." Michael said. "I obviously didn't mean for you to overhear...and I was hypocritically criticizing your professionalism." 

"We're cool." Tom said. "It was kind of funny and you did help me just now." 

"No suing for sexual harassment?"

"If I did you can sue me right back." Tom said. "I think you work very well when you're wet - with blood or water."

Michael whipped Tom with a towel.

—

Tom left to drive back to his own home after he changed out of his wet clothes and into a set of Michael’s. 

Michael opened and used one of the cool forehead strips Tom had bought for him. He doesn’t have trouble falling asleep and when he does, he dreamed of looking into hazel eyes and two bodies becoming one in the rain. 

He doesn’t recall the dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom was certain he had accidentally sprained his ankle but he brushed off the injury as a mild one. He couldn’t stop while there were still scenes to film. 

Tom still remembered Michael’s words. He was not going to waste the time of everyone working on the show by making them stop on his account. 

Michael had recovered from his fever and since then Tom had felt closer to his co-worker and sensed that Michael had a better opinion of him. This was important because they had many scenes together, and needed to work together. A good relationship was vital or his job would be unbearable. Tom did not want Michael to doubt his professionalism again. 

As a matter of fact, the next scene he was going to be filmed in would involve him as Clark and Michael as Lex. 

The scene is a lengthy one and Tom had to stand. He’s grateful he doesn’t have to run but he still felt the pressure on his ankle while standing. He focused on his lines, despite the pain, which had grown stronger as the day got on. It’s fortunate he doesn’t have much lines. The vast majority of the lines said in the scene were Michael’s. 

Miraculously, the first take satisfied the director. Tom could not flee to his trailer to sit down fast enough. He was in the middle of pulling off his sock when Michael entered. 

“Hey, you can’t just barge into my trailer!” Tom protested. 

“So? You barged into mine.”

“You were ill.” Tom said, cradling his ankle. 

“And you’re injured right now.” Michael said, looking at Tom’s ankle and frowning. “When did you get hurt?”

“How do you know I sprained my ankle?” Tom said, pulling off his sock. 

“During filming, I noticed signs of pain in your expression. It wasn’t acting because you’re not that good to pull it off so well. So it had to be real.” Michael said, managing to sound teasing and concerned. 

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Michael asked, getting close until he was standing by Tom. 

“And get everyone to stop? Hinder them and waste everyone’s time?”

“Holy shit, dude! Did my words seriously get you that bad?” Michael shook his head. “There’s being professional and then there’s being stupid and stubborn. You’ve been working all this time with a injured ankle? Let me have a look.”

“Says the person who worked all day with a fever and cold.” Tom said. “You don’t have to look. I’m fine.” 

Michael suddenly knelt and poked Tom’s ankle. 

Tom unsuccessfully bit back a scream. 

He kicked Michael with his uninjured foot. “You fucker.” Tom gasped. 

“Fine my ass.” Tom said, taking out his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance so they can take you to a hospital. Keep going like this and it’ll just get worse. You need to rest.”

“Not yet. There’s still another scene - ”

“Oh my god. You have no sense. Must be all that time you’re spending acting as Clark.”

Tom flipped him off but nonetheless stayed silent as Michael placed the call for an ambulance. 

“Thank you for that.” Tom said after Michael had placed the call. “And for earlier, getting the scene right on the first take. You're really good.” 

“You had a hand in that too, you know. And while standing on an injured ankle.” 

“But most of the lines were yours.” Tom said. “If the situation was reversed and you had to deal with an ankle injury while I have to deliver lengthy lines, you would have suffered for a long time through more takes.” Tom smiled self-deprecatingly. 

“Hmm.” Michael said, not disputing the claim. 

“Hey…”

“You’re the one who said it. Not me.” Michael said, suddenly lifting Tom up in a princess carry. 

“Hey!” Tom repeated, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I watched you act too much. The ambulance is almost here and I was thinking of dramatically carrying you to a stretcher.” Michael grinned. 

“We’re not going to be able to fit through the door.” Tom said pragmatically. 

“True.” Michael said, setting Tom back down. 

They end up leaving the trailer with Tom wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist and leaning on his back. Tom bent the leg with the injured ankle so it did not touch the ground. 

—

Michael visited Tom at the hospital. 

“Everyone who needed to be informed has been.” Michael said. “You just focus on recovering. They’re rescheduling so the crew will be filming the scenes I have with John Glover tomorrow.”

Tom nodded and relaxed into his pillow, loosening his grip on a copy of the script he had with him. 

“That’s right. At least one of us can relax.” Michael said. 

“Why can’t you relax?” Michael asked, genuinely curious. “The doctor says it’s not too bad though yes…you were right. I did make it worse by not getting attention immediately but I shouldn’t be out of commission for more than two days.” 

“Not you. Me.” Michael said. 

Tom hid his hurt. No, he reminded himself. Michael did care. He was the one who noticed and called an ambulance. 

“I feel like a fresh theater grad around John Glover. The man’s won a Tony Award. He’s a pro.” Michael said. “I’m constantly worried I’ll fuck up.”

“Would it help if I admit I feel that way too? Around seasoned actors.”

“You feel like an awkward theater grad too?” 

“No, I didn’t go to college.” 

Michael tilted his head curiously. 

“After high school I went into construction and then modeling and now I’m acting.”

“What made you decide to go into acting?”

“During high school I did plays before I went more into sports.” Tom said. “I like acting better than modeling. It’s more fulfilling than posing for the cameras.”

“It’s tougher too.”

“Yeah. There’s more to do. But I enjoy it. I get to be in action and there’s other people acting with me. I mean sometimes in modeling I’ve worked with other models too but acting is different, extended. I like the feeling of successfully finishing a scene with other people. But I don’t like that feeling of fucking up and knowing I’ve messed up things for the other person who didn’t fuck up.”

“You’re thinking about the rain thing again, are you?” Michael asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Seriously man? Let that go. I’m not going to hold it over your head. You’re the only one bringing it up yourself.”

“That’s true…” 

“I’ll just remind you of it again when you least expect it.” Michael smiled. 

Tom sighed in exasperation. “Anyway, I get your feeling. Around Annette O’ Toole and John Schneider I feel way out of my league. I worry about giving a performance that can match up with the level they’re bringing.” 

Michael looked distant.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Tom demanded. “What are you thinking about?”

“Sorry.” Michael apologized. “I was thinking about how to portray Lex in regards to his interactions with his father. But I also heard what you said and I’m trying to fight that feeling by getting as prepared as I can be to act in scenes with John Glover.” 

“Oh.” Tom said. 

There was silence again as both of them drifted into their thoughts but Michael interrupted it first. 

“What are you thinking about, Tom?” Michael asked. “Such a look of concentration.”

“I was thinking about how I could put more thought into acting as Clark.”

“You don’t have to think that much. You and Clark are both noobs so naturally you align with - ”

Tom smacked Michael’s head with his script. 

“Oh geez! Give me a break.” Michael complained. “I don’t have hair anymore to take some of the impact.” 

Tom began to speak, saying some rather familiar words. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Michael interrupted. 

“Practicing my lines?” 

“Didn’t I tell you to focus on resting?”

“You did, but…”

“I could purposely mangle some lines in my scenes with John Glover you know. That could buy you time to recover.”

“Don’t do that!”

“Then shut your mouth, don’t use your energy. Put it into resting.”

“Okay. Okay.” Tom sighed, closing his eyes. He didn’t know when he had drifted off, but he had a sense Michael did not leave his bedside until he had. 

He has a dream but doesn’t remember it the next morning. Michael had him in a princess carry but actually carried him far while he had not in life. Tom wore his everyday casual clothes but Michael was dressed in a Shakespearean outfit, dressed like a Prince Hamlet. He carried Tom up stairs that seemed to go on forever but there was an end. Michael dropped him on a very soft bed and Tom crawled into position on his hands and knees. 

Michael shook his head. “Your ankle.” He said. He gently rolled Tom onto his back and began to suck him off. 

Tom smiled. Michael was so considerate.


	4. Chapter 4

In order to give better performances and improve, Michael and Tom had agreed to support each other in order to reduce the anxiety of possibly fucking up in front of veteran actors. 

Michael had been the one to suggest an improvisation exercise and Tom had agreed. It would help with getting into a character's headspace and sharpened skills. If lines were forgotten, improvising based on context and how a character would act would be easier and perhaps a scene could be salvageable.

Currently, Tom was standing nervously in the hallway outside of Michael’s apartment door. 

Although there was no script, there was a scenario. Lex had fallen ill after doing some shady lab shit and Tom, as Clark, had to check on his health but he also had the ulterior objective of getting information on what had gone down in the lab. 

Tom rang the doorbell to Michael’s apartment. Wait, no, it was now the Luthor mansion. 

Tom waited but after the time limit of how long it was comfortable to wait, Michael still had not opened the door. Frowning, Tom rang the door bell a second and third time. Tom’s treated to more waiting and a growing feeling of crabbiness. He pressed the doorbell several more times. 

He almost yelled something obscene and wanted to pound the door. But he didn't and remembered he was suppose to be in character and neither were something Clark would do. In fact, ringing the doorbell so many times may already be considered a breach in character. Tom sighed. He was suppose to be taking this exercise more seriously. He hoped Michael would not hold this against him. 

Finally, Michael opened the door. 

“Clark.” He said, his voice hoarse. Michael coughed. 

“Lex.” Tom said, returning a greeting. “I heard you were ill so I came here to check up on you.”

“You didn’t have to come here…and so late at night.” Michael said. “What would your parents think?”

Tom frowned. How could he counter that?

“My parents know I’m here.” Tom said. 

“Ah, so everyone will know where to go asking if you go missing.” Michael said humorlessly.

“Stop joking, Lex. The sickness is effecting you.” Tom said. 

“I was ill but it is under control now. Go home, Clark.” Michael said, closing the door. 

Tom frowned. He was suppose to find out what had happened at the lab. If the door closed the exercise was over and he had failed epically, not even getting inside.

The point is to improvise Tom thought even as he put into action the only tactic he could think of, basic as it was. He crudely shoved his foot between the door and the frame. He had the sense to use the foot he had not recently twisted the ankle of. 

Michael’s eyes widened. 

“Haha.” Tom laughed nervously. “I heard you were sick so I brought some produce. In fact, mom and dad told me to. Yes, I’m here to deliver produce to help with you recover. Please open the door so I can put everything away in the kitchen.”

Michael sighed and warily opened the door. 

Tom stepped in and mimed putting away a crate of produce while he watched Michael out of the corner of his eye. 

Tom knew Michael was acting. He was perfectly fine before this exercise began. But Tom had seen how a sick Michael looked and now Michael looked like how he did when he had actually been sick. It was clear in his voice, movements, and bearing. Tom was awed. This was just an exercise. No one was watching except him, and there was no one filming but Michael was putting in strong effort. Tom decided he needed to step up his own game. Getting inside the apartment - the mansion, was just a small victory. 

“Once you’re finished with what you came to do, let me tend to your foot injury and leave afterward.” Michael said in a tone that bode no argument. 

Tom let Michael seat him on the sofa but mentally he was trying to think of how he could get information on the lab. Maybe if he asked if Michael, or rather Lex, had any unusual symptoms?

“Let me have a look.” Michael said. 

Those were the same words he had said when he had wanted to check Tom’s sprained ankle. There was the same concern but also something else. Tom frowned. Why did he have a bad feeling? 

The something else was…an intense curiosity. 

_Let me have a look_. He wasn’t saying it as Michael - he was saying it as Lex. Tom realized. Toward Clark. 

_Clark is - no, I’m invulnerable._ Tom thought. _If he takes off my shoe he’ll see that there’s no injury. No redness, no bruise. It’ll make him suspicious. He’s looking for proof. He’s obsessed with me._

Tom suddenly pulled his foot away, stopping Michael from taking off the sock though he had already managed to pull Tom’s foot out of the sneaker. 

Michael gave him a look filled with sharp resentment. The look was brief and quickly replaced by a carefully blank expression. Blank but dangerous. 

Tom felt like he stepped unprepared into a wolf’s den.

 _He’s acting._ Tom thought. But Tom's heart still ached to receive the look of resentment and he feared Michael's expression. 

“You don’t have to check.” Tom stammered. “I’m alright because, uh, my feet are used to abuse. I move around crates and I’ve accidentally dropped them on my own feet a couple of times because I’m clumsy. So my feet are strong like my hands because my hands get callouses from rough work and it is the same with my feet. I have “feet callouses”, so they are tough.” Tom had put his foot back in the shoe as he was talking. He tried to calm his accelerated heartbeat. 

Michael cracked a small smile, breaking character momentarily. Tom could understand why. What he had just said sounded like such bullshit, almost as bad as saying adrenaline was why a teenage boy could carry up two grown men. But it was also in character. Tom felt he had done something right and passed a test. 

Michael surprised him by grabbing his hands. 

“You have such smooth hands though, for someone who does so much farmwork.” He said, running his fingertips over Tom’s palms. “Soft too…”

Tom couldn't help but shiver.

Michael leaned his head close enough that Tom wondered if Michael might even kiss his hands. 

“I wear gloves.” Tom said, pulling his hands out of Michael’s grasp. 

“You must have some pretty good gloves.” 

“Anyway, who cares about my foot, or hands? How are you, Lex? What happened in the lab?” Tom asked, wanting to hit his head against a wall a second later because such obvious words had come out of his mouth. 

“I’m fine.” Michael said. “I had a fever but it’s lowered and all that remains of my cold is a sore throat. Nothing happened at the lab. I’m just tried from overworking.” Finally, he gave Tom space and retreated, coughing into the crook of his elbow. He rolled his head back and pressed the tips of his fingers to his forehead. 

_He says he’s fine but he acted sick just now._ Tom thought. _He’s giving me another chance…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: It doesn't happen but there is mention of underage kissing.

“Lex, what’s wrong?” Tom asked. 

“Just a bit of dizziness.” Michael said. 

“I can’t leave knowing that you’re not okay.” Tom said. An idea suddenly entered his head. “I’m worried about you, Lex. And I’ll only leave if you prove to me that you’re fine.”

“What do I have to do for you to believe I am fine?” 

“Let’s see…if you were fine you’d have an appetite. I’m going to make soup - and you have to finish it all. Sleep and then wake up and eat the soup and you’ll be better in no time. I’ll help you to your room.” Tom said. 

“Let me have a look at your injury first.” Michael said. 

_Goddamn it. He’s still trying to get me to leave or reveal myself._ Tom thought. 

“How can I allow you to take care of me when you won’t even let me take care of you?” Michael asked. 

The line of arguing is reasonable. Tom struggled to find a reply. 

“I’m not the one who’s dizzy and light-headed. I think you need to rest, Lex. So I’m going to get you into bed.” Tom said. 

Shit. He could have worded it better. But he was improvising and there was no script. 

Only a faint twitch of the lips betrayed Michael’s amusement. 

He didn’t resist Tom trying to guide him to his room. Tom was familiar with Michael’s apartment by now. He knew which room was his bedroom because he had helped Michael there when he had a been ill. But it was suppose to be the Luthor mansion right now. Clark likely had not explored it.

Tom let Michael lead and point out his bedroom. 

When they entered the bedroom, the bed immediately caught Tom’s eyes. 

The sheets are a mess and Michael was neater than that. Things suddenly clicked and it made sense to Tom now why it had taken Michael so long to open the door. Michael had taken his time getting up and answering the door because he was already acting before Tom even stepped into the apartment as Clark. He had to have been sleeping, as Lex, and just got up to open the door. That’s why the sheets were in such a state. 

“Amazing…” Tom said, breaking out of character. 

“What’s amazing?” Michael asked. 

“You.” Tom answered truthfully and without thinking. 

“Me? And what exactly is amazing about me, Clark?”

Being addressed as Clark was what brought Tom to the realization he had messed up and slipped out of his role while the exercise was still ongoing. 

“You’re amazingly stubborn.” Tom said, recovering. “Go rest already. I’ll make the soup.”

“You’re one to talk.” Michael said, getting onto the bed and under the sheets. 

Michael watched Tom turn his back and leave the room. 

A minute or two passed. 

Michael heard the sound of a pan clattering to the floor. He frowned and exited the room, heading to the kitchen. 

He was met with the sight of Tom standing on a stool. 

“Why do you put the big pots up so high and in the back touching the wall? I’m tall and even I need to use a stool.” Tom complained. 

Michael walked up until he was standing right by Tom. 

“Sorry about the pan.” Tom said, looking at the pan on the floor. “I was clumsy and I didn’t know where things are. And you were resting so I didn’t want to disturb you by asking where the bigger pot for soup was…”

“A smaller pot for soup is fine.” Michael said. “Get down from there.” 

“But I’m close to grabbing the big pot.” Tom said, shifting his stance. This proved to be a mistake as a part of his foot met with air. He lost his balance and the world went sideways. 

Tom found himself on the ground but he did not feel pain. Instead he found Michael’s arm curled around his back. He had cushioned Tom's fall. 

They were both on the ground of the kitchen, down side by side. 

_Michael just saved me._ Tom thought. _But Michael is acting right now and so am I, right? So Lex just saved Clark._

Was Michael still acting? Tom wondered. The exercise would go on indefinitely until Tom exited the apartment or one of them said the safe words. It made the improvisation practice sound kinkier than it was but in discussions he and Michael had agreed they needed a way to tell when someone wanted to stop the practice or felt uncomfortable during it with it being clear it wasn't acting. The words were “Bowling Green,” the name of the city in Kentucky Michael had attended college at. 

Michael was still cushioning him but he had not said anything. Tom had not said anything either. He was thinking of how he could apologize for falling because he had not intended to at all and he had nearly got them both injured. 

Tom turned to face Michael. There was barely two inches between their noses. 

Michael pulled away his arm from where it was curled around Tom’s back. He brushed his knuckles softly against Tom’s cheek, confusing him. 

“Have you kissed before? Do you have any experience at all?” Michael asked. 

"Lex...are you okay?" Tom asked. "You didn't get another head injury did you?"

Michael looked serious, expectant. 

“Of course I have. I’ve kissed you.” Tom said. 

“When? If it happened I don’t recall being awake for it.”

“…At the river.”

“That doesn’t count. A real kiss, not CPR.”

“Then no…I haven’t.”

“Would you like me to teach you?” Michael asked seductively.

Michael leaned in and Tom swallowed, realizing that he wouldn’t mind being kissed by Michael.

He closed his eyes and waited for a kiss. 

It did not happen. 

Tom opened his eyes and saw that Michael’s face was farther away, although still close. He was looking at him warily. 

“Were you messing with me just now?” Tom said, unsure if he was saying it as himself or as Clark. 

“Yes.” Michael said. “Why would I actually kiss you? You’re underage.”

Underage. So they were still acting as their roles. “Lex, I'm not angry.” Tom said, which wasn’t quite true. “You’re probably being weird because of your fever or the lab stuff, what happened - ”

Michael stood up suddenly, stepping up on the stool before getting off it shortly, pot in hand. He offered it to Tom. 

“Do you get it now?” Michael asked. “The danger of someone like you entering this place alone and unsuspecting and how that can be dangerous? I told you to leave but you didn’t listen. I wasn’t serious but what if I was? Make the soup and then quickly leave, Clark.” 

Tom stood up and took the pot with unsteady hands. How could he argue with that? He thought of scenarios but they didn't seem in character. 

_You're not serious, Lex. But I am._

Tom thought of pushing Michael against the fridge or counter and kissing him silly. And then kissing other places because Michael needed to use his mouth to tell him about the lab while Tom's mouth convinced him to talk. 

Tom also had ridiculous dialogue in mind like: _You sleazy billionaire, how dare you toy with my virgin farmboy heart? Dangerous? I'll show you dangerous! I can toss you into the next state without breaking a sweat!_

Tom hit his head with the pot to shake off the thoughts.

While he had been thinking inappropriate things, Michael had walk back to his room. 

That was it. Michael had pretty much won. Tom would make the soup and then have to leave without getting anything out of him about the lab.

Tom shook his head. It wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to concede defeat that easily. 

—

Tom sat across from Michael at the table. The soup laid between them. 

“I’m sorry I burnt the soup, Lex.” Tom said. “I wasn’t careful because I was distracted and thinking about something. The lab that was - ”

“Thanks for practicing with me tonight, Tommy.” Michael interrupted. 

_Tommy? A nickname? He called me Tommy._ Tom thought. _Shit. Practice really is over. I lost._

“You’re welcome, Rosey.” Tom said, also using a nickname. 

“Drive home safely and I’ll see you next time, alright?” Michael smiled. 

Oh. Next time. Tom returned the smile. He had other chances to defeat Michael yet.

—

Out of curiosity, Michael tried the soup after Tom had left. 

It stunned him. 

The basic recipe of the soup was the same as the soup Tom had made for him when he had really been sick with a cold and fever but everything Tom had done right then is done wrong here. Besides being burnt it was also way too salty and watery thin. The meat was cut into overly large chunks rather than easy to eat bite sized pieces and it was like the vegetables were added in at the last minute judging by how hard they were. This soup was barely edible where the soup Tom had made before was supremely edible. This was done very deliberately. 

_This is not the soup Tom made for me._ Michael thought. _This is the soup Clark made for Lex._

**“I can’t leave knowing that you’re not okay. I’m worried about you, Lex. And I’ll only leave if you prove to me that you’re fine.”**

**“What do I have to do for you to believe I am fine?”**

**“Let’s see…if you were fine you’d have an appetite. I’m going to make soup - and you have to finish it all.”  
**

Finishing a horrible bowl of soup like this was easier said than done, even by someone who wasn’t sick and had an appetite. How could Lex have ever proved to Clark he was fine by drinking this so Clark would leave and not pester him about the lab? 

Michael smiled; impressed by Tom’s cunning. 

_It’s going to be interesting working with Tommy more._ Michael thought. _I shouldn’t underestimate him. Not at all._


End file.
